Captain's Log
by Plastic Emotion
Summary: A series of shorts, all concerning Plastic Beach and the little misadventures that take place there. Second on deck: Roasted
1. Anatomically Correct

_Author's Note: These will probably be a more humorous take on Plastic Beach, like a Plastic Beach version of **Banana Peels**. Mini one shots among the same category._

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Anatomically Correct

"Yo' never gunna let me go, are yeh?"

"Why bother askin' if yeh know the answer?"

"Tryin' teh make conversation I guess."

A bit of silence struck between the two men lounging about on the balcony of the bassist's newest estate, Plastic Beach, or the floating hellhole, as his singer so kindly nicknamed. The swirl of beer echoed within the metallic container, fizz snapping with what life it had left before being guzzled down by the younger man. It was a shock and frustration to him that he was being held prisoner on a mysterious and disgusting island of unwanted worldly mistakes. He vaguely remembered how he even arrived. Murdoc seemed to enjoy popping into his life during the most inconvenient times. He had just promised himself he had gotten over the loss of their beloved guitarist and would finally be able to move on to bigger and better things…

Glancing over his shoulder at the grimy, insane band leader, the bluehead sighed, crunching the aluminum in his hand before tossing it off the edge. Before long this island would also have a landfill, just like back in Kong. A slight chill ran down the spine of the pretty boy, feeling the need to question it, but he had to be careful with his choice of words. He was out here only because of "good behavior" as Murdoc called it, for a bit of fresh air and a beer. He was sure to be thrown back down into that cell of a room as soon as the bassist snapped out of his chipper mood. The snap of a tab brought the young man back into reality as he rolled the words around his tongue before finally giving them voice, "Oy Muds?" he piped up, rubbing his nose as he leaked backwards on the rail, "An island is nice an' all, I s'ppose." Complimenting the man's actions couldn't hurt. "But…why an' island at all?"

From the lounge chair the green toned male was sitting in, he lifted his shades with the fat of his thumb, a brow arched under the greasy mat of locks. Snapping the folded magazine in his hands, the bassist licked his thumb and turned the page, ignoring the slight breeze tickling the edges inwards. "To get into the _groove _of things, dullard. Album will be titled _Plastic Beach_, after all, or 'ave you not been paying attention to the songs you've been singin'?" The lad rolled his eyes while he played around with his scarlet ascot, loosening the knot just a smidge. "Thought it might've crossed yo' mind once o' twice down in that bunker o' yo's. I've been quite generous in the amount o' thinkin' time I've given yeh, 'aven't I?" 2D didn't have to turn around to know he was pulling the vilest of grins behind his back. Adjusting his captain's hat, the prisoner sighed, gazing out at the sea. Noodle would have loved the colossal view. Blue skies and clear waters, nothing at all like in Kong, what with the fog, perpetual darkness, and never ending zombie infestation, relaxation wasn't a skill much exerted in the haunted land of the dead. One was lucky if they had a decent night of sleep without the thuds of bodies rocking against your door desperately trying to break in.

"Kong is gone anyway, if that's wot you were goin' on about."

The young man's eyes popped. Gone? How could Kong be gone? His head tucked over his shoulder, face filled with more questions than his mouth could coordinate coherently, and it wasn't until Murdoc glanced up after glancing at an article about hair growth that the man realized his singer was going to suffer from a stroke if he didn't clarify himself. "Look, it caught on fire. Shit 'appens." the eldest shrugged off. No one said he had to be completely truthful. The lad's arms flopped to his sides, eyes wide and numb. He hadn't ever expected to go back or visit, but…but it was untouchable. And a fire managed to set it straight? Did that close up the portal? Were the zombies free from their eternal curse? Had he left anything worth anything? His lip pouted in thought. Not like it mattered much now anyway.

So, the famous home of the Gorillaz was destroyed.

Now that the foul aftertaste had gone from his thoughts, the singer realized he wasn't all that sad about it. Sure, they had had some fun memories in there, but living out his favorite movies was quite different once experienced. And it just wouldn't be the same without Russel or Noodle around. Murdoc's company was that of a different sort. And the boy couldn't exactly say this at the moment was treating company. Poking his fingers together, 2D twirled around, eying the bassist with a face of disturbia and curiosity. It took a whole five seconds before the bassist noticed.

"Wot?"

2D rubbed his neck a bit, eying the ground, "Wull…I've just been thinkin'…"

"Do enlighten me."

"The…erm…robot."

"Wot about it?"

The singer crossed his arms loosely with a shrug, scuffing the white floor with the heel of his boot, "Why'd yeh make it look like Noodle?"

"It 'as 'er DNA formatted into the circuitry, face ache," he sighed with a growl, flipping through the mag for something interesting, "Now if yeh don't mi-"

"But yeh could've made any kinda robot, an' made it look like anyone."

Furrowing his brows, the bassist glanced up over the edge of the booklet, "Memory serves me wit four band members under the title of Gorillaz. Know 'ew they are?" The young man nodded wearily, leaning his back on the firm metal. He ran his finger along his cuticle, wincing, "Don't yeh find it kind of…wull…creepy?"

Pinching the bridge of his shattered nose, the bassist released a heavy sigh. He was going to need some tea or warm coconut milk after this conversation. "I'm positive the girlie will care less. She understands Gorillaz must go on, for the good of the world. It's done a downright spectacular job if I do say so myself. Imitates 'er skill to the tee." the older man smiled, rather proud of his handiwork. Not to mention the robot was a dedicated and well programmed body guard as well as assassin. It wouldn't be heading through any metal detectors any time soon.

"I meant along the lines of the robot lookin' a bit…stretched." 2D mumbled, crossing his arms behind him along the rail. Murdoc arched a brow while his eyes squinted in thought, the word stretched repeating over and over in his mind. Stretched? Well, of course the robot would be taller than the real Noodle they had last seen years ago…It was only natural that…wait. The bassist could feel his mind snap in a sudden halt among the flow of things, eye ticking as he focused intently on the singer fumbling in his glued spot, offering a quick flush cheeked cough into his fist. Tossing the magazine, the Gorillaz leader leapt off his seat, throwing out a threatening finger towards the boy like a javelin, "An' jus' wot the fuck are yeh insinuatin', face ache?"

Feeling more relaxed than he should be, 2D merely shrugged out his arms, the awkward situation warning him that he'd be locked up till next Christmas, "I jus'…wull it looks older, so yeh know…I mean…yeh didn't…" he trailed off as the two stared at each other, words lost in translation. The bassist's face had grown to a rarity of deep purples, fingers curling into fists faster than a gasp of air. "It just looks so real, yeh know? Even the skin feels real…" the boy's sentence wavered, giving the band leader a bit of an odd look as if thinking over the taboo himself.

"It's all wires an' circuits! Metals an' anythin' else I managed to scrounge out 'ere. Details aren't necessary!" the bassist growled, taking a step towards the bluehead who was eying him with judgment. "Detail wos done perfectly…It looks human enough. Shit, I'd think it wos the real Noodle…hair…eyes…skin…" his eyes stared up, cheeks flushed as could be, "She…it…it's not anatomically correct, is it?"

"THAT'S IT!" Murdoc bellowed, snatching the singer by his ear, dragging him to the glass door. However waiting there in perfect attention was the RoboNoodle, responding to her master's scream to double check if everything was in order. The bassist nearly ran into it, flushing darker as he closed his eyes while throttling the singer, "You bloody nitwit! Can't just keep yo' gob shut can yeh? Is that where yo' mind flows to in tha' room?"

"Wot! No!" the singer cried, ears tinting a healthy rose, "I wos jus' sayin'! I jus' find it creepy is all!" The grip on his neck grew tighter. "For all the wrong fuckin' reasons!" the bassist hissed, about ready to pound the living daylights out of the singer, when the cyborg tilted its head and took a step closer for a better view. The two men stood awkwardly in their frozen acts, unable to face anything that reminded them even the slightest of the Japanese woman. "G-Go recharge for three weeks or somethin'!" Murdoc managed to weakly snap, dropping the singer to the floor the moment it was gone from view. He really needed that coconut milk. He was going to have to drown himself in it.

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_Author's Note: Yeah...Murdoc's never letting D out of his room again after that awkward mess. But I must admit...the thought had crossed my mind from time to time. Able to build a futuristic looking Noodle robot? Just a tad creepy...for all the wrong reasons. _


	2. Roasted

Roasted

His eyes opened, the world a mix of shadows ranging from reds to oranges and hints of black in between. The birds were silent for the most part, unless cawing out when the meal of the night was spotted. Sunset…

So lovely. He actually enjoyed the serenity of it, reflecting its calm on his little island. How generous. Feeding him pleasant thoughts while lounging on his deck. Couldn't ask for a better moment in time…though he did miss the company of a woman…at this point he wouldn't even have judged. What solitude did to a man. He pulled his face off the plastic coated strips of his lounge chair, lifting a lazy arm to rub the gathering spit off the corner of his lips. Seemed like a good nap, and the chair wasn't as uncomfortable when done belly down, aside from the skin taping itself to it. With a sniff, he slowly stretched his neck, listening to each and every crack popping back into place. Perhaps a massage could be snuck into his very busy Plastic Beach agenda, right after his snack and just before another nap. He was positive he could program some kind of mode into that robot for a simple massage. Couldn't cook worth biscuits, though. Nearly imploded all of Plastic Beach with the microwave alone.

It seemed the mosquitoes were managing to start their own life on the foul isle, and without the bassist's consent. The man growled as he felt the prick of the nasty little vermin along his neck, leisurely sucking away at his precious life. Well, he would have none of that. Not on his expense anyway. A quick swat ended the creature's feast. It also managed to morph from a simple relief to an electrocution of horror.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAHHHHHH!"

The man jumped off the chair as it collapsed on itself, waving his hands in order to cool off the pain spreading from his neck, but to no avail. The damage had been done. The pain throbbed up the left side of his face down to the very soles of his feet, itching and pricking with every movement he made. The weight shifting on his feet continually created a chain reaction of never ending hell. Within seconds he abandoned his post, slipping through the glass doors into the cool hallway. He slapped the wall as he bit down on his lip, heaving as the pain crawled under his skin with its own heart beat. Falling asleep in that blistering sun…what had he been on? Of all the idiotic…

"Oy, gov! Jus' catchin' up on some din-…Caesar's ghost, cap. Wot in blazin' 'ell 'appened to _you_?"

Lifting his head painfully so, Murdoc glared out at the handyman of the island, and second human of Plastic Beach, Dave. The indolent conman merely stared at him, a baseball bat tucked away behind him as if Murdoc couldn't notice, but at the moment, the man hardly cared what his handyman would need with one anyway. "S'exactly wot 'appened to me." he barked in a hiss, nails scraping along the paneling as he slowly lowered his arms with clenched teeth. Dave remained quiet, avoiding eye contact with the unevenly scorched skin mask. The best reaction was none at all when it came to Murdoc.

"Looks like yeh could use some o' that coolin' lube for burns. Works on all types, work related and leisure. That oughta set you straight." the mechanic offered with a smile, backing a good five steps or so when the bassist nearly launched at him, "Well, wot the fuck are yeh waitin' for, yeh twit? Let's 'ave it!"

Jerking a thumb back, Dave did his best to attach himself to the wall as far away from the boss as possible. Living was essential in order to enjoy the money he was swindling. "I left it in 2D's room! Used it when I got a shock usin' 'is plugs! 'e oughta know where it is!" the stout Brit clambered, leaping to the other side of the hall as Murdoc charged passed, cursing the world and his father as he did so. Shaking his head, Dave released a slow whistle, heading off in the other direction. God help the poor lad now.

It took a ghastly ten minutes before the bassist remembered how to get to the singer's room all those floors below. A twist took him here, and a turn took him there, but neither took him where he required being, and time was being quite unreasonable with him in his current condition. By the time he found the boy's room, his rage and limit for pain had reached to just about the temperature boiling on his back. He was in no mood to be messing with doorknobs now. Preparing for the worst, Murdoc slammed his foot against the swollen wood, breaking off the lock and handle. His teeth clenched tightly as the singer screamed from the corner on his bed, covering his face before peeking out to make sure his window was still intact. However, his gaze managed to only lock on the man charging in, clad in nothing more than a pair of zebra striped knickers. The man looked ready to kill.

"WHERE'S THE FUCKIN' LUBE?"

There was a fraction of silence before the bluehead's hands slipped off his face into his lap, brows pressed and eyes winced. Surely, he had misunderstood…

"…W-Wot?"

Items began to fly as Murdoc slapped them to the floor, yanking out drawers, "THE LUBE! THE LUBE! DAVE'S LUBE! I NEED IT NOW!" he hissed, ignoring the look of horror on the lad's face.

"I-I don't 'ave any o' that stuff!"

"Dave said 'e used it in 'ere last time 'e came in. I swear teh yeh dullard, if yeh don't find it I PROMISE YEH IT'LL 'URT YOU WAY MORE THAN ITS HURTIN' ME!" the bassist heaved, taking a heavy step towards the young man who was throwing himself against the wall, porthole or not. "Oh my _GOD!_" the singer cried, burying himself in the furthest corner he could find. He had to barricade himself, avoid contact at all costs, find an extra pair of trousers if possible. There was no way in hell or deep water he was going down like this. NO way. He squeaked when the eldest shouted in triumph, expecting him to rip the sheets right off him, but when he opened his scrunched eyes he saw nothing more than the leader handling a white tube, desperately trying to pop the lid off. Dear lord, what was this island coming to? 2D pulled the blanket over his hair, shrinking into himself as the man managed to break it open, pouring a sizable amount into his palm before slathering it all along his face. He trailed it down his neck and along his arms, sighing in relief with each spread.

"Oy, dullard! Get over 'ere!"

The young Brit squealed before shoving himself so hard he fell off the edge of the bed, blankets and all. Eying the mess behind him, Murdoc only shook his head, mood brightening as the Robot Noodle marched along in the hallway, peering in at the sight of its master. "Excellent! Cyber Noodle! Make yo'self useful an' rub this ointment on me back." he ordered, careful to hand her the tube without much contact on his behalf. He turned on his toes, blowing along his arm as the cooling agent of the cream began to immediately sooth his irritation. "Murdoc Niccals master….Gorillaz…leader…Command detected…Accepted." the machine lopped off, squeezing the rest of the tube out on the victim's back while the singer righted himself on the floor and peeked over the bed's edge at the scene. The robot was in on this as well?

Her eyes gazed firmly at her hand before shoving it against the bassist's skin, a foul cry erupting from his throat, "GAHHH! ARE YOU FUCKIN' NUTS YEH PIECE O' JUNK? GENTLY! _GENTLY!_" Crawling under his bed, 2D shivered, wrapped like a mummy, paler than a ghost. It seemed there were new things to be fearful of on Plastic Beach…and the whale wasn't one of them.

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**Author's Note**: _Geez, I'm horrible. XD Wrote this with a migraine in tact, but it had to be done. This idea of Murdoc being burned has been floating around me head since Plastic Beach first came out. I just needed a good structure to write it out, even if it was short. I enjoy this one. I think 2D's going to be disturbed for a long while. I mean it is dark down there. Who was he to notice the burns? XD_


End file.
